Oh, What a Beautiful Morning!

And now you have an ear worm . . .

 

Like the Cat Ate the Grindstone

Little by little I'm working my way through the repository of my past.  There is so much to look at and so many memories . . . The picture above is one I'll keep as it is one of the few I have in which my mother looks truly happy. (She and I are on the left. I was probably three.)

I have always loved dogs. Here I'm at my Aunt Mamie's in Troy, Alabama. My grandmother and I rode the train from Tampa to attend Mamie's daughter's wedding. I was a flower girl. The ring bearer was a red-headed little boy named Rusty. At the reception I asked the piano player to play "Home on the Range" and he did.

Kindergarten at Seaborn in Tampa. And my brief ballet career.

1959. Senior year at Plant High in Tampa. John and I were "going steady." He gave me a ride to school every day in his Model A.

I had to save out this picture of Justin to show Josie (who scored another goal in last Saturday's soccer game.)

And then there was a whole mess of materials from the quilting classes I taught back in the early 2000's.  Not to mention patterns and instructions for the many group quilts I helped with.

 I've heard of people's lives flashing before their eyes when they were in a perilous situation. Well, I'm not in such a situation; my life is crawling before my eyes at a slow and crowded pace. It's so much information and so many memories that I can only do a small amount at a time--like the cat ate the grindstone.

                            

Oh, Spring! Oh, Joy!

 

Woo Hoo!!!

What good news! The autocratic Orban and his "illiberal democracy" have been handed a huge defeat. Unlike Someone, Orban has accepted defeat and conceded. 

Orban had pledged fealty to Putin, and our own president, who is securely in Putin's pocket, endorsed Orban and sent the despicable JD Vance to Hungary to promise financial support from the USA. (This, when we supposedly can't afford health care and the forestry service, and, really, anything that makes life better for us non-plutocrats.)

I have to admit that along with being happy for this defeat for a far-right government, I take pleasure in seeing Vance coming back with this defeat added to his failure to negotiate  a treaty with Iran. Couldn't happen to a more deserving sycophant.

I'd like to believe that this is a tidal shift that will propel a Blue wave at the midterms.

Fingers crossed.

 

Silent Sunday

                                                      

Twenty-Two Years Ago . . .

I continue in my purge of my workroom. After recycling the manuscripts of my Elizabeth Goodweather novels, I turned to the stack of notebooks that contained the printed material of  ten years or more of writing classes, publicity pieces, interviews, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

Out with them! But I'm conscientious enough to want to recycle all that paper which means removing it from the plastic page protectors and also tearing off any staples. And in the course of this, getting a nostalgic trip back in time. Lots of good classes, good students, good memories.

Then I hit a notebook with printed out emails from my early efforts in 2002 to find an agent--and a representative sampling of rejection. There had been around sixty but I only kept the positive ones--the ones that said nice things about my writing while gently turning me down.

Then there was the excitement of an offer from an agent, my acceptance, and her attempts to sell that first book. More positive rejections and finally the decision to put that first novel aside and try again with what became Signs in the Blood.

It was like reliving that roller coaster of emotions when, a year later, my agent began trying to sell SIGNS. And oh, the joy and edge-of-my-seat tension when the agent let me know that Kate Miciak at Bantam Dell was interested!

The rewriting, the adding a subplot, the tweaking the ending, as emails flew between Kate and my agent and me. At last, the contract! A modest two book deal!

And then all those memories went into the recycling. It was nice to remember the excitement, and my agent's great sense of humor. And I still got a thrill at seeing Kate's encouraging words.

But, the nice thing is, I don't miss any of it. It was all a fine experience and I'm glad I had it. But I'm happy not to be writing into the wee hours, trying to make a deadline. 

Been there. Done that. 

They're Back!

Such a delight to see the swallow-tails rioting amongst the azaleas!

 

Memories . . .

                                                           

Fifty-some years ago when we lived on a lake in Odessa, Florida, we frequented a small country store called Fox's Corner. It was run by a grumpy feller and his bad-tempered little feist dog.  One day we were outside the store with our elderly beagle cross, and the feist took exception to her presence. He came boiling out of the store to launch an attack. 

His owner came running after him, yelling, "Get back in here. What do you mean, comin' out all stiff-legged and agitatin'?"

Pure poetry. We still use that phrase.

Another memorable usage is 'Flehmensing.' Moving to the farm and acquiring cattle, we became aware of the characteristic behavior of a bull around cows--he rolls back his upper lip and sniffs at the cow's lady parts to determine if she's in heat. We eventually discovered the technical term -- "Flehmens response" and shared it with friends. Not long after, we heard one of those friends describing an unattached fellow at a party-- "You ought to have seen old _____, he was flehmensing round all the women."

Ceasefire or No, DJT Needs to Go!

 After spending a beautiful spring day worrying about Dear Leader doing something really awful that would brand our country forever as a rogue nation, I was relieved by the announcement of a two week ceasefire.

I'd hoped the orange idiot would find a face-saving way to back out of destroying a whole civilization in order to save it from its repressive leaders. And he has--but only for two weeks.

There seems to be building sentiment in favor of impeachment. I can only hope . . . and keep badgering my senators and representative to invoke the 25th. If ever anyone was manifestly unfit to be POTUS, it's the corrupt egomaniac currently infesting the Oval Office.

It's a hard reign (sic) gonna fall . . .and I'm not talking about Iran.

Dear Sirs

                                                 

 WAKE UP! Our country is well on its way to becoming a pariah nation. The madman in the Oval Office must be removed before he commits even more war crimes to divert attention from his on-going corruption and the Epstein files. 

IMPEACH AND REMOVE DJT!!!

The Easter Party 2026

Weather or not, the Easter Party happened. 

There was rain in the morning and a crew of nephews and others set up a canopy.

The quilts were hung on Saturday and the tables decorated.

There were lots of old familiar quilts made by our community over the years and more family heirlooms.

The quilt above was made of upholstery scraps by Candace's grandmother. But the thing about this humble quilt is that both of Candace's boys (home births) were born on it. There's glory for you.

The rain stopped in time for the party!

And folks began to appear--old friends and new.

The dogs were in heaven, especially when food was dropped or left unattended.

Lots and lots of kids, including, of course, one very familiar face.

And eventually the sun came out!

And the skies were blue!

 

Happy Easter!

                                                                   

                                    

 

Amaryllis Again

A Christmas gift from the past is putting on a show!